


each time you happen to me all over again

by cassanabaratheon



Series: I exist in two places, here and where you are [2]
Category: Dark (TV 2017)
Genre: Childhood Sweethearts, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Pining, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassanabaratheon/pseuds/cassanabaratheon
Summary: There would come a time when he reflected upon his life, the highs and lows of it all, that he would see just how much of it she occupied. How many moments, a lot of them firsts, would belong to her and to them.He didn’t quite believe in soulmates but, perhaps, he thought, they were akin to that in their own way, as in the end, it all came back to her.
Relationships: Tronte Nielsen/Claudia Tiedemann, Tronte Nielsen/Jana Nielsen
Series: I exist in two places, here and where you are [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893649
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	each time you happen to me all over again

**Author's Note:**

> So... I had a lot of feelings after s3 and 10k later this was the result lol as we don't know a lot I have my own timeline of events and dates that I use mixed with ones given by the official account for the show. A lot of pining and spans pretty much Tronte's life.
> 
> Enjoy! :)
> 
> Title by Edith Wharton.

_I have so much of you in my heart._  
\- Keats

_Somewhere on the other side of this wide night_  
_and the distance between us, I am thinking of you._  
\- Carol Ann Duffy

_—when he looked, and she_  
_looked up at him, their looks so merged in one_  
_the world outside grew vacant, suddenly,_  
_and all things being seen, endured and done_  
_were crowded into them: just she and he—_  
\- Rainer Maria Rilke

_I kiss you—across hundreds of_  
_separating years._  
\- Marina Tsvetaeva

***

There would come a time when he reflected upon his life, the highs and lows of it all, that he would see just how much of it she occupied. How many moments, a lot of them firsts, would belong to her and to them.

He didn’t quite believe in soulmates but, perhaps, he thought, they were akin to that in their own way, as in the end, it all came back to her.

* * *

Apart from his mother, she was the first girl he had held hands with and the first whose knuckles he stroked with his thumb. She shot him a glance, pleasantly surprised, lips upturning at the corners and slotted their fingers together. They were young, not really knowing anything about attraction or desire, childish and still innocent, but it was undeniable that he liked her – and she liked him. Since his arrival; what started off as mere curiosity, became the first ties of an attachment between them that would last their entire lives. As children, holding her hand had been a way of showing that.

They let go once they crossed the threshold of her home – now his as well, he reminded himself – but it became a new normal from then on, to hold her hand and for her to interlace them together.

She was his first kiss, shy and quick, a fleeting brush of lips with open eyes. It was autumn and the woods were awash in shades of fiery oranges, reds and golden browns, the leaves crunching satisfyingly under their boots as they walked back from school. They stopped so she could adjust the strap of her satchel and in the afternoon sunlight, her coppery-hair shone brightly. She looked beautiful, earthly, a wood nymph with fascinating eyes. That’s when he did it, impulsively, and she rapidly blinked her lashes and the lightest blush crept up on her cheeks whilst the tops of his ears had turned red. Neither of them knew what to do next so they left it at that and continue their walk back home, hands clasped together and both peeking at each other every so often, softly smiling.

She was the first girl he had seen undressed, boldly regarding at him as she pushed her nightgown down her hips. She said nothing, letting him look for a few moments, which he did bashfully, before tugging her nightgown back up and left his room – but not before tossing a final glance back to him with a ghost of a smile. Once she closed the door, he laid down on his bed and let out a long exhale. He stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, waiting for his heartbeat to return to its normal pace, not really thinking of anything but feeling the first hint of sexual curiosity. He rolled onto his side and squeezed his eyes shut.

She was the first he touched; new, exhilarating, _terrifying_. She had changed much since that night in his bedroom well over two years ago and, he reasoned, so had he. He would look at her a lot more and, in turn, her eyes wandered over him unguarded with her own attraction to him. He was now more than curious, knowing and understanding some of things that happened behind bedroom doors. Their kisses had taken on a degree of heat that gathered south and when her tongue glided against his, it sent his heart racing into overdrive. Sometimes, as they were kissing and his hands were firmly gripping her hips, he could feel her rock slightly, and she would press herself against him, wanting. They grew bolder; hands skating under skirts and unbuttoning shirts, limbs still mostly clothed wrapping tightly around each other, straining, moaning into mouths.

At first, it was awkward, it was strange and it was astonishing – (years later it would become sensual, exhilarating, _addicting_ ). In the aftermath, they lay on his bed on their backs, breaths steadying and skin cooling. He stole a glance at her and she had her eyes closed though he knew she wasn’t asleep. As if sensing his need for reassurance – that she was alright, that _it_ was alright because, at seventeen and as the first time, he had gone on more instinct than any form of technique – she enclosed his hand in hers, watching him with a kind expression as his body relaxed and he allowed himself to smile.

They grew closer still as time went on, letting each other in on little secrets and private thoughts. By nature, she was more guarded, emotions held much more closely to her chest (in time, some would call her aloof and cold), but he found a way of slipping through that hardened front. He knew she felt things keenly and those few that she truly loved, she did so fiercely. She found it difficult to be vulnerable but there were moments between them when she allowed him to see that. Sometimes she would get into his bed for no reason other than to curl up against his back, face pressed between his shoulder blades and arm wrapped around him, hand splayed over his heart. All her gifts to him were full of meaning, full of intent to bring him joy like the soft tan-coloured leather journal so he could write all his short stories, a book of poetry by an author he mentioned once in passing that he liked, a new belt with a shiny buckle when his broke. The evening of the day where she wounded her knee by the lake, her eighteenth, she had asked him to stay with her that night. They did nothing more than lie together and she sighed so softly as he held her, mumbling how she wished this could last forever.

She was the first girl he had cried over and the only one who had truly broken his heart. The loneliness of the house without her was so pronounced and he curled up on his bed, burying his face into his pillow in an attempt to stifle the tears. He knew she would go to Munich to study, he knew the date and that what they had together would end. But, still, despite knowing all this, it still hurt so much more than he anticipated, to see her leave Winden. Everything felt muted, dulled, without her around and he missed her.

//

He got the apprenticeship at the _Winden Tageblatt_ , already known to them by working there in the summer months when school finished and having once had a short story printed. He had moved out of the Tiedemann household and into a small room in boarding house which the newspaper covered till he progressed up the career ladder. It was his first time truly alone and it was just as exciting as it was daunting. Routine eventually settled in and all the work and learning started to the lessen the broken heart he was carrying around like a rock in his chest. A couple of the men, not that much older than himself, who were helping with his induction into journalism (and generally taken him into their care), just clapped his arm in light sympathy when they asked if he had a girl and he rather pitifully said he didn’t anymore. They told him not to worry, he’d find another girl soon enough and the girl he was pining after would be just a memory. He tried to smile and nod but the only thought that resounded so loudly in his head was that, yes, there might be other girls (and there were) but the space she occupied was hers and hers alone, and she would be a permanent resident there.

Occasionally, he saw Egon when he was shadowing crime reports and they would talk for a few minutes. He found out very little as to how Claudia was – unable to go further than the polite questions that he was bound to. He had tried to write to her but after the first couple of exchanges, it faded and stopped. All he knew was that she was well and thriving in Munich. In the years to come, when he was the journalist covering the story and asking the questions, they would still talk about her in the lightest of ways. This time it was less about politeness on his behalf but more for hiding that he knew, personally, how Egon’s daughter was faring. It was better when they avoided talking about her at altogether.

She did come back but only ever for the shortest of time. Holidays, mostly, where he predominately viewed her at a distance and in crowds, and then when her mother died in April ’64. By that time, Egon and Doris had been divorced for some years, the effect of which had led to a gulf between Claudia and her mother. It had been a quiet and sombre affair, mourners genuinely grieved at the loss of a woman who had been well-liked in the community. She had held herself with ridged composure next to her father throughout it all. Yet, he saw the small tale-tell sign, the few rapid blinks and flare of her nose, pressing her lips firmly together as the coffin was lowered into the ground, her give-away that she was not without feeling as the unkind whisperers said she was.

There wasn’t much in the way of time for them to talk and it wasn’t appropriate. Her eyes met his fleetingly from across the dining room of the house he had once, for a time, called home with her. It was going to be sold after and this was the last time they would be there. She stood off to the side, away from the others who had tried to talk to her, to offer their condolences, but found they were getting nothing back. She had not touched the food and looked like a trapped animal, eager to escape. She caught his eye again, raised her chin just an inch, and turned on her heel decisively.

She headed to the garden, to a spot that was secluded further back and couldn’t be seen from the house. He followed her as she knew he would. This was a place they had used as children to steal kisses and to simply be together for a while, delighting in the discovery that they could remain hidden and pretend it was only them in the world. She was pacing a little when he found her and when she faced him, there was a multitude of flickering emotions across her face, most of which he couldn’t place.

He told her how sorry he was – he had truly liked Doris and had been grateful for her care of him after his own mother has disappeared. She swallowed thickly, head bobbing in a curt nod. He took her in, the way her hair reached the middle of her chest and was tied back in a black ribbon. Her plain black dress reached her knees and he could just make out the scar on the left one as her black socks did not reach that far up to cover. She stared at him equally for a beat before crossing the space and kissed him hard. She had been drinking whiskey and could taste that on her lips, her tongue. His arms wrapped around her tightly, her hands clutching at his back and he could feel the impression of nails digging in. Her breathing was heavy when she pulled away, his own not faring much better. It was a kiss that was nothing like the ones they had shared before and, he realised then with some nostalgia, they would never have those again. She backed away from him, eyes glassy and he wanted to comfort her but that was not something she could accept right now.

She left four days later; after the house was hollowed out and closed up, awaiting new occupants. There had been no time for them and he knew then that they were over.

* * *

There were two girls in the gap between after Claudia and before Jana – Anna and Ilse. Anna had worked at the paper with him; the daughter of a worker at the nuclear plant, who was covering the secretarial role for six months until a permanent placement could be found. It was brief and fun and when they decided it was not going anywhere between them, it was an amicable end. Ilse was briefer still – a chance meeting at a bar and then a month together before she decided to leave Winden and travel. She had offered him the opportunity to join her, get out of the stifling town as she called it, but, despite the appeal, he remained.

He reconnected with Jana properly at a birthday party for Ines in ‘65. It was a balmy May evening, music blaring from the record player, smoke from cigarettes and joints intermingling in the air and alcohol consumed in abundance. They were all crammed into the one-bedroom flat belonging to one of the nurse’s Ines was friends with, all laughing and conversing easily. He leaned against the bookcase, having gravitated to scan the spines (they were nearly all medical, the odd novel here and there), drink in one hand and cigarette in the other, watching them.

She came up to him with the same, quiet smile from when they were children, but there was nothing coy about her when she spoke, having gained confidence over the years. They ended up speaking for most of the evening, occasionally pulled into conversations with others, and when it came to leaving, he walked her home. As they stood at the entrance to the block of flats she lived in, she hugged him, arms wrapped around his neck, and he breathed her in; a light floral scent mixed with smoke. When she drew back, she cast him a brilliant smile and whispered to him that she still had it, the bracelet he had given her as children. He stared at her, something squeezing in his chest. His silence made her smile falter and step back but he stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. She glanced between his hand and his face, waiting. He asked to see her again and her smile came back, endearing.

It was nothing more than friendship at first, the kind they had had growing up which had been tentative but warm all the same, and they spoke about books and plays, the cinema and music. Except now there was no Claudia and that changed everything. He was doing really well at the paper, moving up fairly swiftly in the ranks to a junior reporter and he could begin to think about life beyond work. He liked her, enjoyed her company and the ease she brought with her. They shared their first kiss five months later and, although things were slow to progress, purposely on both sides, she invited him up to her flat in early December. After that night, they were more open with the fact there was a romantic attachment between them and people began to treat them like a couple, joining their names together, pairing them off. He also noticed that she wore the bracelet almost all the time, still unsure how he felt about that memento of his mother clasped around her wrist.

She was loving and forgiving, kind, patient and never demanding. Nonetheless, he could tell she wanted more from this and others were beginning to drop hints, asking when were they going to see a ring on Jana’s hand. She blushed and laughed off those comments but he saw her looking wistfully once at some engagement rings and a gradual, gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach began.

By the time a year had passed, it got harder to avoid the conversation that needed to be had. They reach the point where some sort of commitment had to be made and he knew she was getting frustrated at his vagueness. One evening when they were visiting Jana’s mother (whom she was close to, seeing as her father had died over ten years ago), she took a moment, when Jana was occupied elsewhere, to thrust into his hand a ring that has been passed down through her family. It was a pretty ring; a simple gold band with a small oval diamond in the centre and three tiny ones grouped either side. It dug sharply into his palm as he clenched his fist closed as Jana appeared and she frowned a little as his strained smile but said nothing. Before they left, her mother gave him a hard look as if to say _do the right thing_ and he almost buckled under the intensity. He didn’t sleep that night at Jana’s, a feeble excuse of some last-minute editing for a piece, and she didn’t believe him but neither did she demand the truth. She kissed him softly, asking only if he was alright and he nodded, throat-tight, and told her he’d meet her tomorrow when she finished work.

In his own apartment, he set the ring gingerly on his bedside table and laid down on his side, contemplating it. For such a tiny thing, it carried an enormous amount of weight and his head was crammed with conflicting thoughts. He should marry her, he knew that, they could have a good life if he let them. But he couldn’t stop the niggling, persistent voice that reminded him of another time, with another girl.

He groaned, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes as he rolled onto his back. He wished he could forget, suppress the memory and be free of it. The more he tried that, the more if flashed into his mind of when they were all at the lake one particularly warm day in spring. He remembered the play-fights in the water; Ines’ squeals as the other boys from school who had joined in on their small group, pelted water at her. He couldn’t quite recall where Jana was – possibly sitting on the bank reading alongside Helge who had come along but didn’t get in the lake, scuffing his shoes against the sand. After the incident, they had all felt rather sorry for him and as Claudia was still tutoring him, he tagged alongside them. It didn’t go unnoticed by Tronte that Helge’s crush on Claudia was also the main reason he came and, if she wasn’t there, he left them to it.

He and Claudia had drifted away from the group during the water-fight, half-floating on their backs or swimming lazy circles together. Legs would occasionally brush against each other and hands loosely held for a few moments. He tracked the way droplets ran down the side of her face when she surfaced after a dive and her hair fanned and swirled around her neck. The afternoon light cast dancing shadows across her face, reflecting the water upon her skin in a golden glow and he thought of the book of folklore he had and how she reminded him so much of a Nixe come to seduce him to a watery grave – not that he’d had the will to resist if she did.

They had been talking about the upcoming wedding in the town; the chief fire officer with a childhood sweetheart. Egon was attending and, by extent, so was she but she didn’t really want to go, having taken a bit of a dim view of marriage since her parents decided to divorce. She stated that she didn’t think she ever wanted to marry, shuddering as if it was the most repulsive idea imaginable. He frowned, treading water and asked, only half-joking, what if he asked to marry her?

She paused mid-stroke and her look was incomprehensible to him. She shrugged slightly but her voice was pitched low as she replied with a soft _maybe_.

His heart, stupid thing that it was, soared.

Then she inquired, coquettish batting her damp lashes in order the elevate the mood, if that was a proposal? He grinned broadly, lightly splashing her and as she spluttered, he retreated before she could attack back, calling out, _maybe_ , to her.

There was no _maybe_ when he proposed to Jana two weeks after he received the ring. They were at his flat and she was curled up on the sofa reading whilst he typed up a first draft. It felt so domestic; the wine bottle half-drunk on the kitchen table, the stack of records in the corner by his extensive bookcase were a mix of his and ones she had brought over to play (her taste in music being a little more mainstream than his) and she was wearing one of his jumpers. She sighed and shifted her position a little, readjusting her hold on the book – one of his that she had taken an interest in – and before he could think it through, he asked her.

She stared at him wide-eyed and parted lips, shocked and almost afraid that he didn’t mean it. It hung in the space between them and there was the tiniest twinge of regret he felt for having said those words that he could not take back. But her smile was so full of joy when she breathed out her _yes_ that it momentarily erased everything before.

He got up and fetched the ring, joining her on the sofa. Her hand trembled as he pushed it onto her finger gently, a tear escaping down her cheek which he swept away when she recognised it. She hugged him fiercely, her happiness radiating in waves over him. He felt almost as if he was drowning.

It didn’t take long for the news to spread and for an official declaration to be printed in the paper. Jana’s mother squashed him in a vice-tight hug, whispering in his ear to look after her. His smiled stiffly. The people at the paper all cheered, some yelled out _finally!_ And clapped him on the back. The constant congratulations made his head spin as did all the talk of the wedding; the date, the ventue, the invitations. He gladly took the backseat that was offered, giving Jana full reign over it. He did comment on the small things like keeping the service to just close family and friends and that an autumn wedding would be lovely. When it came to drawing up potential guest-list, he had little to offer. He had no family to invite and most of his friends were hers anyway, only some of his colleagues at work. Nevertheless, he scanned down the names, checking as instructed, when he stopped hard at one.

He said the name softly, questioningly, and Jana looked up from where she was now writing the names onto the real invites. She explained that she thought, with them inviting Egon, it would make sense to invite Claudia also. She must have seen something in his face to make her brow crease in concern and asked if she should change that?

He shook his head. No, she was right to invite her, would be strange not to, he just hadn’t thought of her that was all.

Doubt flickered across Jana’s face but cleared when he came over to drop a kiss on her head and peer at the invites she had done already, to steer them away to safer ground. That his heart was still thundering in his chest and gut twisting, he didn’t let on, and he reached out to help her complete the list.

She didn’t come and he was glad of that. If she had… a part of him thought he would have not gone through with it if he had seen her. Egon did and he came with an apology on behalf of his daughter (though she had already sent a written note saying she would sadly be unable to attend but was delighted in the news – he wondered if there was any truth in that). He dropped a hint that his daughter had someone in her life, taking up her time in Munich and he didn’t want to dwell on that.

The service itself passed in a blur, one that he felt he was viewing outside of himself, half-dazed. Jana looked beautiful, tastefully elegant and with the sweetest smile as she said her vows. Only until he saw the ring on his finger did the reality of it all start to hit him. As he signed the register, he saw her do the same, her cursive hand writing out _Jana Nielsen_ for the first time, and his breath caught in the back of his throat. He would be surprised later to see their wedding photo, how steady his gaze was and how much more relaxed he looked compared to that of what he was feeling.

It was the end of September 1967; he was twenty-six with a good job and now married to a wonderful woman. He walked through the woods alone, the leaves only just starting to take on their autumnal colours and he tried not to think of the girl he once kissed here. The prospective future should have filled him with excitement, the endless possibilities of a life now shared…

Standing by the lake he watched the water ripple and he felt an icy tendril of trepidation curl slowly within.

* * *

Eighteen months moved quickly and, in that time, he and Jana had pooled their money together and purchased the old Tiedemann property. No one had brought in the years since it was vacated and it was a strange thing, to walk back into that house. He hadn't been fully in support of this, brought round to the idea gradually as it was in an ideal location and within budget. After seeing it all stripped of the old furnishings and their items filling in the spaces, it started to feel more like theirs and less of the house he used to know. It was funny what a bit of paint and wallpaper could do to a place. Plastering over memories created within the walls.

He was now a fully-fledged journalist and she was doing well at the library. They were also settled into the rhythm of married life, taking on routines and learning details that only living with someone could provide. Compromises were met although there was very little conflict and, even then, it was only the most minor of things like where to place a picture on the wall or what to have for dinner.

He was having a drink with a few others after work at the local bar when some of the men nudged each other and asked, with appraising eyes, who the redhead was. He had his back to the entrance so didn’t know who they were talking about until he craned his neck around. His heart slammed painfully hard in his chest. Dark green blouse and slim black trousers, she walked through with ease to the bar and ordered, settling on a stool. His friends muttered something but he couldn’t hear from the way the blood pounded in his ears and his grip on his drink tightened.

She was here.

She was back.

They must have asked him something and, not hearing his name being called, a jostle against his shoulder made him whip back to them. They were looking at him curiously. His tongue felt thick in his mouth when he said her name, not having spoken it for some time. They asked if she was Egon’s daughter and he nodded. He downed his drink, rising to his feet and before he could think about it, made his way to her.

She didn’t notice his approach and as he neared, he found himself at a complete loss as to what to say. He spoke her name, almost hesitantly, and she turned to him; confusion then recognition crossing her face. She breathed out his in return, a smile appearing slowly and he could do nothing but stare for a moment. Beautiful, that was all he could think as he took her in, those goddamn eyes of hers would never cease to charm him. He drank in the curve of her jaw, her hair that curled around the tops her shoulders, her fingers wrapped around the glass of bourbon. In the time he had been looking at her, he comprehended that she was doing the exact same thing. Her eyes scanned over his face, travelling the length and breadth of him then back up to meet his eyes.

They both seemed rather stunned and she gave a little chuckle, motioning him to sit by her. He pulled up a bar stool and saw her furtively look at his hand and the ring before flitting away. He ordered a drink, ignoring the eyes he could feel on his back from his colleagues, and once he took a large enough gulp, the burn down his throat a welcomed distraction for a second, the questions started. She had accepted a job at the nuclear plant – in one of the research offices and so was moving back to Winden permanently. They swapped stories; of her time at university and him as an apprentice – she had smiled deeply when she hinted that Egon had told her of his first solo interview with him.

They took no notice of the time, of the way the bar started to empty out and when he did glance back to where he had been sitting before she had arrived, he saw they had all left. It was only when she squinted at her watch did they notice that four hours had gone by. They gathered their belongings and headed out into the night. She was staying with her father until she could find a place of her own. He offered to walk her but she shook her head and only then mentioned that he should probably be heading back to his wife. That chilled him far more than the cold March air ever could. They both stilled, awkward and hyper-aware of each other.

It felt too much to embrace so she offered a hand which, with a faint smile, he took. She was warm and soft and she glanced down at the way his fingers encircled hers. His heartbeat fluttered and he felt a tremor in her fingers; he drew nearer and his hold tightened a fraction. How was it that they could fall back, fitting easily together? That was not lost on them. As he watched her walk away, stuffing her hands into her pockets after buttoning up the collar of her coat, he felt it, like an invisible thread that connected them, tug on his heart, his soul, bringing him to her.

Jana was in bed reading when he came in. He readied himself quickly, undressing and slipped silently between the sheets. She closed her book, setting it on the side and closed the light. She rolled over to him, sensing something was amiss with how he stared up at the ceiling, one arm bent under his head and she rubbed her hand over his chest. She asked if he had a good evening and he responded with a slight shrug and then, as lightly as he could, he mentioned Claudia. She shifted and her hand stilled, feeling heavy on him. There was a small bit of uncertainty in her voice when she inquired about her and he relayed pieces – that she had enjoyed Munich but couldn’t resist the job at the plant and was living with her father for the time being. Jana hummed distractedly. He turned to her, placing a hand on her waist and she waited a beat before settling next to him, head resting under his chin as she wrapped her arm around his torso. It helped ease some of the tension that had crept in although this was the first hairline fracture to appear between them.

//

Nothing changed at the beginning, their lives continued as normal and, apart from the odd glimpses of each other across the road, in a shop or at the bar, they remained a suitable distance. She had seen Jana not long after she arrived, a chanced meeting one afternoon. Later that night, Jana told him that she had invited Claudia to their night out with the others (something they did every three months or so) and he felt both perturbed and a shooting thrill at seeing her again.

She arrived just after eight and took the empty seat at the end of the table which they had reserved for her. She was all bright smiles, greeting those she didn’t know with handshakes and received a slight embrace from Ines who was seated next to her on her left and Sebastian Krüger on her right. He tried not to look at her too much, sitting down the other end from her. He could hear her answer questions, provide stories of her time away and he couldn’t help but listen intently. Krüger said something that made her laugh and he did look at her then, at the way her head tipped back, a little grin so carefree. He dragged his gaze away only to find that he had been observed by Jana. He tried to smile at her but she looked away, picking up her drink and started to converse with the others.

He stood up, muttering he was going to get another round of drinks (Claudia declined and in the end it was only for Ines, Jana and Hermann Albers) and Krüger said he’d join him to help. He passed him the lighter as he lit up and they were content to lean back against the bar, smoking and not talking, waiting to be served. That lasted three drags in until Krüger turned to him nonchalantly and asked about Claudia. A part of him already knew that was the reason he had followed him. It was hardly a secret that he and Claudia shared a past and no doubt Krüger thought he might have, what, suggestions? He exhaled smoke through his nose and flicked the end at the ashtray on the side.

He didn’t say much, couldn’t really say much, because, in truth, he didn’t know this Claudia. Krüger seemed somewhat frustrated by his lack of answers, stubbing out the cigarette with more force than necessary. He headed back before Tronte after grabbing his drink and another other one, giving him time to simply be alone. He watched Krüger lean in towards Claudia and, though she smiled, she paid him no special attention. She raised her head and caught his eye easily – even through the space between them.

He went back eventually, setting down the remaining drinks and avoided Jana’s questioning looks as he offered very little to the conversations around him. If the others thought his behaviour odd, they didn’t comment. He was infinitely glad when Claudia called it a night and turned down Krüger’s offer to take her back. Ines decided that she too was going to head home and, with that, they all ended up disbanding. Outside on the street, goodbyes were exchanged and he hung back, raising his hand in farewell when Claudia peered at him over Jana’s shoulder as they briefly (and rather stiffly) embraced.

She did not come to many of these and eventually stopped altogether – a small relief not only to himself but also his wife as time went on.

It was on New Year’s Eve of that year at the Kahnwald residence that the first moment transpired. The new decade was just insight and everyone was far more drunk and excitable than previous years. He was outside on the lawn with the rest of the smokers seeing as Ines had told them they weren’t allowed to do it inside. Jana, who had initially been with him, had gone off somewhere around half an hour ago and he knew he would have to find her before the countdown begun. Heading back into the house, he moved from room to room, through the throngs of bodies – some dancing, others languidly draped over each other, laughing, talking and singing. There was a clash of music coming from two radios playing different channels in separate places and there was a small group arguing over the musical choices. He spotted his wife talking animatedly at the back of the kitchen with a couple he recognised vaguely but he didn’t go over. Instead, he scanned the room, only then realising that he couldn’t find the person he was unconsciously searching for.

He turned, defeated, and found her standing before him.

Everything faded to white noise and he could only hear the way she uttered his name. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but nothing sounded. One woman then shouted loudly that the countdown was about to begin and people jostled past her to crowd into the living room. Instinctively, he put out a steadying hand on her upper arm. Her crimson dress, which stopped mid-thigh, was short sleeved and he marvelled at the softness of her skin and the heat. She stepped closer and his hand skimmed down till he could brush his fingers against hers. Her eyes half-closed at the contact, lips parting and she set off sparks within him when he felt his touch returned.

Then it was gone as she looked over his shoulder to see Jana heading towards them. She moved away, placing people between them and he momentarily lost sight of her in the crowd. Jana tugged on his other hand and he faced her, trying to focus. Only one radio was on now and the broadcaster began to count from ten down. Everyone joined in, shouting as loudly as they could with anticipation thrumming in the air. He spotted her just as the last seconds of 1969 came to an end and then he felt Jana’s hands on his face, smiling up at him as she kissed him, and, though he closed the year with her, all he could think of was the other woman.

* * *

In the pale January sunlight that came in through her bedroom window, he traced the length of her back in a ghost-like touch, full of quiet wonder. She was the first woman he had broken his marriage vows for. They had undressed slowly, eyes raking over every inch of exposed skin, learning and mapping the fuller curves of her hips and breasts, the expanse of his chest and thighs. It was similar to déjà vu, of when they had first done this for each other so many years ago and from the jut of her chin, he judged he was not the only one to think that. It was glorious to revel in her again, to tangle his fingers into her hair, to hear her particular gasp against his ear. Fingers threaded together, pinned down to the mattress as her legs hooked around his waist, drawing him closer. He kissed her hard, moaning into her mouth as she eagerly returned it. He felt drunk every time her eyes fluttered open and met his, drowning in the blue and brown, so completely captivated by her. It was a strange revelation for both of them; that despite the experience that they had with others, the added confidence it brought, they never seemed to have forgotten each other.

She shuffled on the bed when his fingers came to the dip at the bottom of her spine and he brought his hand up to brush the hair from her face. She watched him serenely, making a content little sound as he continued his light petting over her shoulders and he let out a soft chuckle. This was something she had enjoyed since they were young and he was glad that didn’t change. He laid down on his side and she maneuvered from her front to mirror him. Her feet pressed against his calves and he covered her hand that was between them with his. He felt calm, that this moment was suspended in time and nothing else existed beyond them. It was perfect and, in the years to come, he would revisit this memory and recall that once, he had felt true peace.

//

Jana broke the news to him one morning early July. His astonished silence filled the kitchen for minutes as the clock ticked thunderously loud. There was hopeful expectation in her expression, dimming slightly when he didn’t react straight away. In truth, he didn’t know how to exactly process this but eventually he took her hand in his and squeezed. She placed it against her abdomen where, below the tissue and muscle, a child, _their child_ , was growing. The expected date was sometime February. He shook his head in disbelief but smiled till it hurt because he was going to be a father and his heart leapt with joy.

He had to tell Claudia, it was not something that could be hidden and he didn’t want her to learn of it from someone else. Yet, he knew that in doing to, this fledgling affair would end. After all this time, to lose her once again brought on a fresh new pain. He kissed her so desperately by her apartment door, tasting a slight saltiness on her lips, and her nails had dug in so hard into his shoulders that he would see she had bruised the skin. Then that was all the time they had and she told him to go with a quiet, raspy voice which made him ache in only the way she ever could.

//

It was the middle of November when they met and it was accidentally. He was doing a follow-up interview with Bernd Doppler about the ten years the plant was celebrating. It wasn’t his interview but the other journalist was ill and there was a deadline to meet. He came across her in the foyer as he was leaving and, for a second, she looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He explained why he was there and her shoulders relaxed, then her head tilted in curiosity. It was impulsive, asking her to meet that evening, and she was taken aback so he quickly added that she could read the first draft. There was a touch of caution to her smile but she nodded in any case and told him to come by at nine before striding away.

He arrived promptly with a bottle of her favourite whiskey and, as promised, the first copy that he was working on. She hadn’t changed out of her clothes but was barefoot, had wiped her face of makeup and taken off her jewellery. She fetched two glasses whilst he made himself comfortable on the sofa, shedding his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to his elbow. He didn’t often allow himself the luxury of that, still shy of the faded marks on the skin that attracted comments. But Claudia knew of them, had spent her fair share of time caressing each scar with her fingers or lips in the past, so it didn't matter.

She sat at the opposite end to him, curling a leg underneath herself whilst facing him as he filled out the glasses and handed her one. In truth, there wasn’t a huge amount of space between them but it was enough.

She asked politely after Jana and the pregnancy and he replied, equally polite, that all was well with the baby. They clinked glasses, both taking a large sip. He passed her the papers and she sat up straighter, flicking through the first couple of pages. It was more note-form than anything concrete, including the typed interview with Doppler. He explained that he wasn’t the original author of the first half and was trying to weave his parts with what was already there.

She leaned against the backrest, drawing her legs up to rest the documents on her knees and moved her drink to her left hand. He watched her eyes dart across the page, the way her brow furrowed one minute then lifted the next and her tongue darting out quickly to wet her bottom lip as she turned the page. He murmured little things as she read, sentences he had not yet included, a turn of phrase he was going to tweak or an observation he wanted to insert. Her head bobbed along with his words, sometimes stopped to ask a question or raise a point that had been overlooked.

They were half a bottle in and completely side-tracked, the story disregarded on the coffee table. They had unconsciously moved closer; his arm draped across the back of the sofa and he twirled the ends of her hair idly. He missed this and hadn’t grasped that he had spoken out-loud until he noticed she had stopped talking. He sighed wearily and rubbed his hand across his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He muttered that he was going to leave but, as he made to move, she stopped him. She was regarding him intensely, making up her mind about something until she leaned forward, cupped his face in her hands and kissed him deeply.

Clothing was either pushed aside or half-undone, the only moment when contact was briefly lost was when she stood up, stumbling into the table as she yanked her trousers and underwear off. He wrapped his arms around her waist, face pressed against her hip which he nipped lightly with his teeth. She moaned softly and straddled him only to then be pushed onto her back as he knelt between her thighs. It was hard and fast on the sofa, pressed for time as it was, and all too desperate for each other for it to be anything else.

She held him afterwards, running her fingers gently through his hair as he laid his head to rest against her collarbone. Minutes went by in the silence but she knew that this couldn’t last long and she arched her neck back to see the clock on the wall. It was time for him to go.

They disentangled themselves without too many words and he grabbed the papers, shuffling them into any order. They didn’t say goodbye at the door, merely a lingering look before a decisive nod and he made his own way out. He didn’t go straight home after that, drove around for a while, stopping on a sideroad by the woods. He got out of the car and lit up a cigarette, leaning on the bonnet and let out a long exhale of smoke whilst he gazed at the night sky.

//

He found out she was pregnant after his son was born in the middle of February. He asked once, outright, if the child was his. She had stared at him, jaw-tight and shoulders set. It was her child, she stated in a voice that brook no argument, and hers alone. The gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach had returned but she would not say to anyone who the father was because, in truth, at that point she still wasn’t entirely sure. She never mentioned the celebration night at the Doppler estate for the ten years of the plant – the article he had co-written came out earlier that day. That had been the one and only night she had with Bernd Doppler; she hadn’t been so drunk that it was without consent but neither had she been thinking clearly when she was up against the desk in his home study. It was quick and sobering, and when they finished, her mind was already jumping to the implications. Thankfully, he seemed just as willing to forget it and they mutely agreed never to speak of it again, acting no differently than before.

Her father had been, at first, dismayed at the news yet, once it was clear she was keeping the child, his support didn’t waver. As dawn broke on the 1st August 1971, Regina Tiedemann came into being.

* * *

Others had also had children; the Albers’ had a daughter the year before Ulrich and Regina, whilst Krüger had a shotgun wedding and his daughter, Hannah, arrived a year after. By the time 1975 came, his youngest son, Mads, had turned two whilst Ulrich celebrated his fourth birthday.

For a few months that year she had a relationship with a visiting scientist from Berlin who was conducting a seven-month study at the plant and he had a two-week fling with a woman from the town next. They moved in their own orbits, living their lives separately that, if it wasn’t for the occasional sighting, it was as if they ceased to exist in each other’s world. But in all that time, he hadn’t forgotten her, turning her over and over in his mind in the darkest hours of the night. It was why it felt like kismet, the following year, when he was by the lake one day in April, a place he had always gravitated to in order to think or just simply be, when he saw her approach.

She faltered in her step, unsure if she should just turn around and walk away, and he stood up quickly and told her not to leave. It always felt like a strange collision, undercurrents overlapping and merging, hauling and drawing them back time and again. A lengthy silence stretched between them as they sat apart on the log facing out across the lake. There was a breeze that day which sent the water into waves that broke against the shore with a soft hush. Birds twittered and sang in the trees behind them, rustling the leaves and they watched two ducks fly in and settle on the lake. He studied her profile, the way her arms were wrapped around her legs hunched over, purposefully avoiding his gaze.

He loved her and he told her so.

She bent her head forward, hair shielding her as she let out a small whimpering sound and, for a terrifying moment, he thought he had made her cry. But then she was facing him, no tears, and she was unguarded with her emotions, letting them play out across her face for him to see. He saw the yearning, painful as it was, and the hopelessness for their circumstance. Yet, he saw reflected back at him that same look he had seen since they had been children and only now knowing, she truly felt the same for him.

They walked through the woods quietly, retracing paths they knew so well, and just like they used to, her hand reached for his. He towed her off course, weaving deeper through the trees, and when he kissed her, like he had once before, she smiled affectionately into it.

//

He never missed birthdays or anniversaries, turned up to meetings at the school and went to parties. He still came home (albeit often late) and shared a bed with his wife and it was all normal except for all the moments he had free, he spent them with her. She had her own life, her own child to care for and although she had her father to help, she was raising Regina alone. Her recent promotion to a managerial position brought with it far less time so they were really reduced to snatched moments, a couple of hours here and there.

Their cars became the most frequent places, occasionally her house when her daughter wasn’t home and there was also the Doppler's cabin in the woods which they had gotten to know as children. A spare key was hidden above the door which Helge had once shown her, and apart from him, it was never really used. It wasn’t a place they particularly liked but it filled a purpose when they were out of options. That stopped when Helge seemed to have taken up residence there in '84 and they were forced to go to the motel that was right on the boundary that no one really knew if it was part of Winden or the town next. It was clean, at least, and the staff were discreet (not that they ever used their real names), as their entire business it seemed, ran on clandestine meetings. 

There was once a risqué late-night venture in his office across his desk, snickering like naughty children when things clattered to floor, then turning to quiet groans and sighs. He told her he didn’t think he could look at the room the same way again and she grinned impishly, combing her fingers through her hair as he attempted to put the room back into some semblance of order.

Another night, they were almost frantic with each other, the first time in a few weeks that they could have together. They barely made it into her house – one of those nice, spacious homes which she brought soon after she rose further up the career ladder. She laughed breathily when he pushed her up against the wall, hands yanking at his jacket whilst he kissed down her throat. Regina was with her grandfather so it didn’t matter that they left clothes discarded in their wake in the hallway and living room – which they didn’t make it out of, sinking onto the soft, carpeted floor, oblivious to the storm that had built and ruptured outside. When they eventually tumbled into her bed, he cherished the way she curled around him, so familiar, brushing her lips against his shoulder.

It wasn’t all constant – lulls between periods when other things took precedence. That was what they had to contend with as part of this relationship they had embarked on. They once argued so bitterly, all past grievances and frustrations bursting from them, that when they didn’t see each other for a few months, he feared that it had ended everything. He brooded, long nights at work and felt immensely guilty when Jana would look at him with such disappointment in her eyes. The stalemate broke when he went to her house after midnight, not drunk but having had enough to give him the courage to go to her. She was not pleased to see him, wrapping her robe tightly around herself and hissing at him to keep his voice down. He pulled her towards him and although she balled her fists against his chest, she softened when he whispered his apologises, his longings for her. He kissed her with full yearning and, after a moment, she returned it all.

That fateful night in October '86, they met at the motel. Perhaps, if they had known how those would be their last few hushed and sensual hours in the dark, they’d have whispered everything they ached to say, the words they kept tightly bound in their hearts.

As he crossed the threshold of his home later that night, his world tilted and flung him wide. The tearful fury of his wife, the confused and resentful gaze of his eldest and the oppressive silence where his youngest should have been all came at him with full force and everything he had known changed irrevocably. 

Then, a year later, she too had disappeared.

Seasons and years rolled by; he watched his son marry his childhood girlfriend and had gifted the house to them, held each of his grandchildren in turn with tears in his eyes, retired from his job and returned every evening back to the apartment to his wife. It was not as if these years weren’t without moments of happiness – there were many of them – but she hovered like a spectre in shadow of his mind. In the early days, he saw her everywhere; a flash of auburn hair or a beige-coloured coat, women startled to be called by her name. It lessened, over time, but he relived moments after the smallest of things surfaced a memory; the turning leaves, a red blouse, a particular brand of whiskey. Whenever he saw her daughter, his heart clenched terribly in his chest.

Life went on but a part of him remained unmoved, unchanged, the part of him that loved her indefinitely.

* * *

She returned; older, as was he, but he recognised her in a heartbeat, hardly able to believe that it really was her and not a figment of his imagination. Yet, she wasn’t _his_ Claudia, he didn’t know this version of her. She spoke like she always had, directly and weighted with authority. Nevertheless, he heard the undercurrent of urgency as she guided him and Peter. She saw his confusion, the questioning looks he darted towards her, and she asked if he trusted her.

And, God, even after all the time that had passed, years spent without knowing what had happened to her, searching and turning up at dead-ends, he found that he did. Because it was her, no matter the version.

Only until after it was done, the body moved (his stomach turned – his _son_ , that was his son!) did he touch her arm as if he was touching a ghost, fingers quaking, and her eyes softened for the first time. He wanted answers, _deserved them_ , and she covered his hand with hers, warm, roughened over the years and very real.

Soon, she promised, he’d understand everything soon.

* * *

“Hello, Tronte.”

He could not move as he took her in; she was younger, not quite her older-self just yet, though her hair had faded to a grey-white. Her smile was faint in understanding and she raised her hands to gently hold his face, wiping a tear that escaped down his cheek. When she pressed her forehead to his, he let out a hard, shaky breath and whispered her name like it was something sacred.

This version was closer to his Claudia.

She took him to the future, to the bunker, watching him move from wall to wall, eyes tracing the names, the images of all the people he knew, the tangled web of all their lives. He looked back at her, bewildered and she told him of it all. The splintering of the origin world, past, present and future moving in cycles interlinked and the fight to preserve or break them. When she spoke of Mads, of Mikkel, he turned away from her, not out of a shame for his tears but because he couldn’t look at her in that moment. His mind whirled with it all; his mother and her brother, of people born in the future to return to live in the past, bloodlines merging and those pinnacle points in time. He stared at all the photographs again, at the ones who, in accordance with the origin world, should not exist.

That he should not exist.

Carefully, she walked up behind him and placed her hands upon his upper arms. He tightly shut his eyes, head bowed when he felt her press her forehead against his back, hands squeezing briefly in some form of comfort.

“I missed you,” he confessed in a rough whisper and her fingers tightened their hold. “In all these years, I never stopped missing you.”

“I am so sorry, Tronte.”

He sucked in a breath, body shuddering, and they remained like that till he could speak again.

“All this suffering…” the hurt resonated deeply in his voice. “What will happen when everything is…” he searched for the word. “Realigned?”

She answered without missing a beat. “Regina will live.”

“And all this?” He gestured around but she knew what he meant.

_Us._

She swallowed as tears pricked at her eyes and she pushed further into him. Her silence was enough of an answer. His shoulders slumped as something sharp twisted in his chest, something breaking. Slowly, he turned around, mournful as he reached out to stroke away her tears, mirroring her earlier action. She twisted her face into his palm, closing her eyes and held him there.

There was resolution in their parting at the grave of her daughter – the one he thought (hoped, even) for years was his but now knew otherwise. Despite that though, it was no less painful. Still so much was left unsaid and it shone in her eyes, the ones he had adored for so long.

The final task went against every instinct of his. Her eyes beseeched him and he broke, giving in and he did as she asked. He travelled back and when it was done, he retched outside, breathing so hard he almost collapsed and was grateful for the incessant rain beating on his face that made him _feel_ something.

 _She would live_ , he repeated, clinging onto that belief, _this was necessary for Regina to live_.

//

He sat alone by the lake as night fell. It was nothing like it used to be before the apocalypse; the trees around were dead and the water was murky and grey, nothing living in it. It didn’t matter as it still brought him a sense of peace. His mind wandered aimlessly, drifting through memories in gentle waves; the births of his sons, his seventh birthday before he arrived at Winden, the first time he walked through the door of the house with his wife, kissing Claudia in the rain the day he turned forty-one. He remembered all their firsts and it seemed fitting then that she would also be the last of them.

She had unable to say how it would happen if it all went right, only that everything would reset.

He felt the lightest tingling sensation start at his feet and, in awe, he watched himself fade into the ether. He felt weightless, floating and everything slowed, becoming hazy. In those final moments, he looked to the sky, to the stars, and his last memory that he saw as he closed his eyes was of her; Claudia at sixteen smiling at him over her shoulder in the sunlight. The day he knew he loved her so completely, resigned to that fact for all his life.

The darkness came and, in the space where he once was, only silence remained behind.

***

_you have been the last dream of my soul._  
\- Dickens

***

His skin was still warm from the sweltering summer’s day and it felt nice against the cooler grass, the blades tickling against his neck and arms. He could smell the earth, breathed in deeply, and listened to the faint sound of crickets in the dark. They lay in an easy quiet, not touching but close enough to feel the heat from each other. The sky was bright with gleaming stars and the feeling was almost overwhelming, looking out at such a great expanse. He felt so small, so insignificant. He had murmured that aloud and she tilted her head towards him. She was half-hidden in shadow but her eyes glittered and he watched the pinpoints of light move in them.

 _Like stars_ , he mused.

“You are not insignificant to me," she whispered in such a small voice yet heavy with emotion.

So, even when this world they were in would cease to exist and nothing of him would endure, it was an undeniable truth.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are really much appreciated! :)


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